


You Want A Medal?

by aislynione



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-02 15:56:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4065862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aislynione/pseuds/aislynione
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John sniffed out a new case, no different than the last hundred they'd had, this time in a small town in Arizona called Paradise Valley. The usual reaction ensued: Dean taking orders silently while Sam locked himself in his room, yelling about how unfair it is that he has to change schools again. In Paradise Valley, Dean meets a boy named Castiel who has an interesting past and might be tied in with this new case, which turns out to be more difficult than they'd ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The car window burned hot against Dean's forehead. Not unusual, considering how much traveling the Winchesters have done in the country, but still less than comfortable to rest ones head on during a road trip.

The sides of the road were dirt. It seemed like everything for miles was dirt. Dean didn't know what to expect from Arizona, but he was hoping for a little more green. He felt gross, like the dirt and dust was already clinging to him, even though he hadn't gotten out of the car yet.

He looked in the side view mirrors, but all they revealed was the fascinating brown dirt sprawled behind them for miles. He looked a little farther left and saw Sam, sleeping in the back seat with a slight frown etched on his face. Dean’s mouth twitched. He wished that Sam wouldn’t be so difficult when it came to moving around. It sucked for everyone, but it’s all a part of the job.

“You’re quiet. Somethin’ on your mind?” Dean glanced at the driver’s seat, and John looked back expectantly. Dean half smiled and shook his head, resting his head back on the window, which had heated back up a solid ten degrees in two minutes.

“Well, we’re almost in town. Wanna wake Sam up?” John asked. Dean shrugged and twisted around in his seat.

“Sammy. Hey, Sammy,” Dean whispered, shaking Sam’s knee. Sam groaned and opened his eyes.

“It’s _Sam_. Sammy is a dumb name,” said Sam, frowning and rubbing his neck.

“Whatever you say, Sammy. We’re just about in town,” said Dean, turning back around. He heard Sam sigh and bump his head against the window.

“Ow, that’s hot,” said Sam. “So, what town are headed to? I forgot the name.”

“Paradise Valley. Sure sounds nice,” said John, craning his neck to see behind him before flicking the left blinker on.

“It should be nicer than the other towns, at least,” said Dean. “We’re renting out a house for once, instead of a broke down motel for creeps and hookers.”

“Dean,” warned John. “I’m doing the goddamn best I can. You have something you wanna say?”

“No, sir,” said Dean quietly, looking down. The next few minutes were spent in a suffocating silence while John drove through the town, navigating them to their new rental house.

“Here we are,” said John, pulling up to a brown house on a road called Pomegranate. “683 North Pomegranate Drive.” John parked the car and got out, Dean following closely and Sam lagging behind.

The front door swung open and a smiling woman greeted them.

“Hi there! You must be the Winchesters! I’m Jody, I own the place,” said the woman, her short dark hair pulled into a tiny ponytail. She was wearing a white tank top and a pair of cutoffs.

“Yeah, I’m John,” said John, sticking out a hand. Jody shook it and gestured for them to come in.

“Your car had a loud engine. That’s how I knew you had arrived,” said Jody conversationally, leading them into the house. The walls were a nice coppery brown, and the whole place seemed very cozy.

“Yes it does. Sure do love that car,” said John, looking around the house. Jody turned around and leaned against a doorframe.

“Well, I’d take you on a grand tour, but my daughter and I are catching a plane in two hours and we need to leave real soon. Make yourselves at home, and I’ll see you boys when we get back!”

A girl with long dark hair around Dean’s age peered around the corner. Jody nodded her head at her.

“We’ll be leaving soon, hon. Make sure you have your bags ready.” The girl nodded and left.

“That was my daughter, Annie. She’s all ready to go to the beach!” Jody said, grinning. She clapped her hands together and rocked forward on her heels.

“Well, the keys are in the bowl by the front door. They’re all labeled, there’s one for the front door, one for the pool gate-”

“You have a pool?” asked Sam, who perked up. Jody pointed to the backyard, where a big clear pool sat. Sam grinned. “Nice.”

“There’s a key to the shed, where all the garden tools are kept. I left a list of the TV channels on the credenza, next to the remotes, which are also labeled. I also left a list of emergency contacts of people in the area, in case you need anything,” she said, tapping her fingers. “That should be it! Have a great summer, boys! Call me if you need anything else.”

John shook her hand again and thanked her.

“Come on, Dean, Sam. Let’s get our things out of the car,” said John. Dean and Sam walked back to the Impala. Dean opened the passenger door, where a huff of hot air greeted him.

“Ugh!” he said, fanning the air with his hand. He grabbed his bag, but his wrist touched the seat leather, which burned with a fiery wrath.

“Ow! Arizona sucks! It’s so friggin hot!” Dean complained, shaking his arm. Sam touched the leather, too.

“Ow! I liked it better in Wyoming,” said Sam. Dean hated to admit it, but he agreed. 

He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked back into the house, where he felt the cool AC touch his face. He sighed in relief, and heard Sam do the same. John was still talking to Jody, who had her bag on her shoulder.

“Thanks again, Jody.”

“Don’t mention it! Houses are meant to be lived in!” Jody hustled Annie out the door, waved goodbye to the boys, and shut the door.

“Well, here we are. Home sweet home,” said John. Dean plopped his bag down on the couch and started wandering around the house. He started mapping the place out. Bathroom, first left. Down the hall, two bedrooms on the right, dining room on the left. Kitchen near the front door. Living room, first right. He walked back to the living room, where he found Sam plugging in his video game console into the TV.

“You work fast, dude,” said Dean, sitting down. Sam smiled, dimples popping out.

“Been waiting to gank some zombies for seven hours,” he said. Dean laced his fingers together and rested his head on them.

“Sammy, I think we could get used to this.”

“It’s _Sam_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a bit of a short chapter, but this is just setting the scene! They'll get longer as the story progresses.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean rolled the windows down, hoping for a cool breeze, but instead got a huff of hot air. He grimaced and turned the volume of his music up high, then tilted his seat back and closed his eyes, tapping the drum beat on the arm rest.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, but he startled awake when someone shook his shoulder aggressively.

“What? What?” he muttered wildly, patting his jacket for his gun when he came to his senses and glanced up. Sam was standing there, arms crossed and looking fifty shades of pissed off.

“Whaddya want, Sammy?” Dean asked, squinting through the harsh sunlight.

“You were supposed to pick me up from Jessica’s house,” Sam said, tapping his forearm. Dean looked at him, his sleep heavy brain still waking up. Sam rolled his eyes and huffed loudly.

“An hour ago, Dean! I had to walk home!” Sam said. Dean blinked.

“Sorry man. I think I fell asleep,” said Dean blearily, rubbing his eyes. Sam pressed a hand against his head and muttered, “God, you’re an asshole” before starting to turn away.

“Hey! You, by the nice car. Yes, you!” Sam’s eyebrows pinched together as he turned around. Dean heaved himself off the seat to look out the window and see who was talking. A boy of around seventeen was sitting on the curb, leaning back on his elbows and smoking a cigarette.

“Would you mind telling the asshole in the driver’s seat to turn down his music? It’s really fucking loud, and he’s been playing it for the past hour,” said the boy. Sam uncrossed his arms and gestured behind him toward Dean.

“Ask him yourself. He’s all bark,” said Sam, shifting his weight. The boy took a drag of the cigarette and blew the smoke skyward, exposing his throat. He looked past Sam, directly at Dean.

“Oh, I dunno about that. People tend to get angry when other people ask them to turn off their shitty music,” said the boy, staring into Dean’s eyes. Dean flung the car door open, nearly sweeping Sam off his feet, and jumped out of the car.

“My music is not shitty! That’s Led Zeppelin, you know. One of the best bands ever!” Dean nearly shouted at this boy _who does he think he is_ , who was just sitting there, completely unfazed by Dean’s outburst. In fact, the boy was smiling slightly.

“Oh, so you like old rock bands? Do you want a medal?” he asked Dean, tilting his head slightly. Dean took several steps toward the boy.

“Hey man, you got a problem with me, or something?” Dean asked, narrowing his eyes. The boy held his gaze for a moment longer, before bursting into laughter. Dean startled backwards in surprise, and the boy just kept laughing, his entire body shaking. Dean frowned, getting more and more irritated by the moment. Eventually, the boy’s laughs subsided and he ground out his cigarette on the street. He looked up at Dean, eyes crinkled, a smile plastered on his face, all white teeth and a hint of gum.

“Sorry, man. You looked like the type who would get mad if someone insulted your music,” the boy said. Dean raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. The boy gestured to his shirt, which was a faded brown tee with The Smiths written on it.

“I kinda like old rock bands, too. Trust me, I recognized the Zeppelin playing. Ramble On is one of my favorites,” he said apologetically. Dean hovered for a moment longer, before busting out a loud laugh.

“Mine, too. I’m Dean. Dean Winchester,” said Dean, smiling. The boy pushed off of his elbows and stood up. Dean noticed that the boy was a few inches taller than him.

“Castiel Novak. I live a few houses down,” he said, sticking out a hand. Dean uncrossed his arms and shook his hand. He smelled like tobacco and mint.

“Me and my brother Sammy just-”

“It’s _Sam_ , and it’s _my brother and I_ ,” said Sam, who had snuck up behind them. Dean jumped and placed his other hand on his heart.

“Jesus, Sammy, you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days,” said Dean. Sam rolled his eyes and walked back towards their house, switching the blaring music off as he passed. The street went quiet all of a sudden, and Dean noticed that he was still holding Castiel’s hand. He pulled away and shrugged off his jacket, which was starting to give him a heat stroke.

“How do you survive this heat? I’m dying here,” Dean complained as he pulled off the flannel that was underneath the jacket, too, just leaving his tee shirt. He dropped the clothing unceremoniously onto the street. Castiel laughed.

“Dude, you’re wearing like thirty layers of clothing. You’re clearly new here. Invest in some incredibly fashionable shorts, like mine,” he said, pointing to his black gym shorts. Dean shrugged.

“Not much of a shorts guy,” he said, taking a step back and fanning at his face. He looked at Castiel, and for the first time, Dean took in the fact that Castiel was attractive. Like, really attractive. He had dark hair that was ruffled, starkly contrasting the lightness of his skin. His eyes were a dark blue, and he had a straight nose, leading the eye to his lips, which were a gorgeous pink hue. His arms at first appeared lanky, but were clearly developed, along with his legs. Probably a runner. He wasn’t wearing shoes, but he was wearing argyle socks, the legs pushed down to his ankles. Dean cleared his throat.

“Like I was saying earlier, me and Sammy just moved in with our dad. Renting out that house there,” said Dean, pointing to the house Sam had just entered.

“Renting?” Castiel asked, squatting down and picking up Dean’s clothes and stacking them neatly.

“Yeah. My dad moves around a lot, for work. Me and Sammy gotta tag along, too. Been to a dozen different schools this year. Sammy hates it, the whole moving around thing. I mean, it’s no fun for anyone, but man, he hates it,” said Dean, taking the clothes from Castiel. “And you didn’t have to pick those up, I would’ve gotten them.”

“Oh. I honestly didn’t even realize I did it,” said Castiel, his cheeks going red. It was a very nice sight. “So, what does your dad do?”

“He’s an archaeologist. He’s doing a dig here in Arizona,” said Dean, gritting his teeth through the lie. Castiel’s eyes lit up.

“Archaeology? That’s awesome!” he said, brushing his hair back. Dean forced a smile and nodded.

“Dean? Dad’s on the phone for you!” Sam called, his head poking out of the front door, dangling the cordless toward him. Dean gave Sam a thumbs up and turned to Castiel.

“I gotta go. See you around, Cas,” said Dean, tucking his clothes under his arm and scratching his cheek. Castiel smiled, held up a hand in a parting gesture, and started walking away. Dean turned to his house and walked across the street.

“Dean?”

Dean turned and saw Castiel hovering on the sidewalk.

“Yeah?”

“Did you call me… Cas?”

Dean felt the tips of his ears reddening.

“Uh, yeah, I guess I did. Castiel is bit of a mouthful. Sorry,” he said, rubbing his nose.

“No, don’t apologize. I like it,” said Castiel. Dean’s lips quirked up in a smile.

“Bye, Cas.”

ooOOoo

“Dad?”

“Dean. I’ve got a lead on the case.” John’s voice crackled through the phone.

“Okay, what is it?” Dean asked idly, leaning against the door frame, twirling a pen in his hand, watching Sam play a video game that Dean got him for his birthday.

“At first, I thought it was a demon, since it hasn’t been tied to one place.”

“Okay, what do you think it is now?”

“I think it might be a trapped spirit.”

Dean straightened up.

“Really? But aren’t spirits limited to houses or buildings?”

“Not always,” said John. “Sometimes, spirits can tie themselves to an object. An object that was very personal to them in life.”

“What makes you think it’s a spirit, and not a demon?” asked Dean, tapping his mouth with the pen.

“There are no occurrences that point to demonic activity. No weather changes or lightning storms. Nothing. Just a whole lot of bodies dropping randomly. Demons don’t just kill anyone, but an angry spirit might.”

“Okay. So, now what?” 

“Find out what object the spirit is tied to, or at least who the spirit is. This is the tough part, but we can do it. I’ll be home tonight, we can talk about it more then,” said John.

“Alright-” Dean started before hearing the empty buzz in the speaker. His mouth twisted to the side. “Bye Dad.”

“What did he want? A lead on the case?” asked Sam, jerking his body to the right with the video game controller.

“Yeah,” said Dean, scratching the back of his neck with the pen. “Said it might be a spirit, not a demon.”

“A spirit? Thought those were attached to houses and stuff,” Sam grunted, shaking the controller wildly, trying to fight a zombie.

“Dad said they can link themselves to objects that meant a lot to them in life,” said Dean. Sam hummed a distracted affirmation. Dean flopped down on the couch behind Sam, burying his face into the pillow and sighing a tired sigh. His thoughts drifted toward Castiel for some reason. He was a weird sort, but he seemed really cool and laid back, but intelligent and sensible and a little awkward at the same time. Like a mix between Dean and Sam, but in a good, attractive way.

“Whatsa matter? Thinking about someone tall, dark and handsome?” Dean opened one eye and saw Sam smirking at him, the video game paused.

“What are you talking about, squirt?” Dean mumbled into the pillow.

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe someone with dark hair and who likes rock music and likes to mess with you and is _completely your type_?” said Sam. Dean frowned at Sam.

“Are you talking about Cas?”

“ See, you’ve already got a nickname for him. You totally have the hots for him. You were smiling two seconds ago laying there,” said Sam. Dean lifted his head a little, squinting at Sam, who was still smirking at him. He let his head drop back down.

“Shaddup.”


End file.
